The Return to Normal
The drive back to Texas, a letter from the state suspending a license, and the distance it took to get.
I had my new years lesson over bottles of sparkling wine with my long lost cousin. We said our good byes and we made our slow return back to Texas. We ended up alone in Taos for a few days, then making the drive back east through the panhandle of Oklahoma and Texas late in the night. After one more night of camping in the hill country outside Austin, I stopped off at Holland Photo to drop off our film for this issue before solemly slunk back into Houston to start our 2018 with refreshment and optimism. We had the weekend to reorient ourselves back into the swing of the real world. That Monday I had to drive back to Austin before starting orientation for a new semester at school. I made the drive back to Austin, picked up the film. I recieved a phonecall for some freelance work while getting lunch and was feeling pretty happy.
I was driving back down 290 on a Monday afternoon, with no traffic. It was warm and sunny. The car was in cruise control at 70mph I rolled the windows down and the sunroof was open. I was listening to the Foo Fighters first album and in a spotless happy mood.
The Tiguan senses my mood and had a way of checking my happiness with moments of sheer dread. I felt a pop then a heavy rocking feeling. I looked down at the center console to see a flash check engine light. This vehicle that struggled through up the fridigid plains, that could have broken down in the terrifying remoteness of the Nebraska Sandhills decided to pick this time to speak up by saying, "you had your selfish fun trekking around, now you gotta handle some business." I limped the vehicle to the autoparts store 20 miles away and bought a aftermarket cylinder coil and a small flathead screwdriver. I swapped out the number 3 cylinder coil and cleared the code. I was able to make it back into town, albeit with a diminished degree of world conquering confidence.
Later that day the mail came. I opened to find a letter from the state of Texas, notifying me that my license was suspended without a recourse or hearing. I thought I had kicked this problem a year ago, stemming from the years driving in terrible work circumstances. I thought it was a mistake, thinking they never received the court document that threw out the notice six months prior. I called and waited an hour to find out that there was indeed a second charge. The rear ending accident a month after my son was born finally was processed by the town's sheriff's office, making its way to the state, then triggering their computer with a suspension notice. The first notice was lost in the mail during Hurricane harvey and I never had the ability to contest the notice in court like I did the first notice. I lost my ride and it taught me a lesson, though I was a stewing brat about it at the time.
Firstly, this experience was the stressor that sent our family over the line in terms of what we could endure with a child. This was indeed the past flapping of butterfly wings in the past having tremendous consequences in the present. It sure did feel like fate took a tremendous shit on our heads, but it was a problem that had a solution. It forced us to say fuck it, make a plan and move out. We were out of Houston nine months later.
Secondly, I will never take anything for granted again, not even driving a car. The act of driving, despite how our country designs its mobility network, is a luxurious privilege. You don't really know the true value of a vehicle until you can't drive it while still having to make payments on it.
The experience was tough but doable. It provided a degree of stress that pressured us to overcome our self made positions. The car, sitting for six months was pushed back into life after we found our way into a new opportunity in Florida. The Tiguan was pissed at me for keeping her sitting. Flash check engine lights flared when I was driving her down the street, as she was belching months of condensation and settled carbon buildup, she eventually coughed and cleared the fault. I got her serviced one more time, got my petition for occupational license by paying 1000 dollars in fines and made plans to leave Texas one more time. We gave away most of our belongings, a past we wanted to shed like a snake skin. The tiguan got us here and acclimated before finally letting go. Prolonged sitting stiffened the piston rings and she began going through oil badly. By that time we had recovered. We were able to trade her in for the next new car and the next new experiences.
I have sufficient distance from my family now. I tried talking with them on the phone shortly after moving here and felt the same feelings of manipulation at work as it was in my childhood. Tom is long gone. The toxic family unit is together and in its new business iteration. The same business is running under a different name with different investors. However, a key omission from that business is me, I'm not there. I made it out again. I am incredibly lucky for my jettison out into new potentialities. Denouement is an illusion, we just move on to the next iteration. Marco, if you ever read this one day, thanks for helping me see that.